


By Firelight

by AceQueenKing



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Padmé Amidala Lives, Rebellion, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-27 05:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16212254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Padmé and Sabé communicate with Gungan rebels and enjoy a first kiss.





	By Firelight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skatzaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/gifts).



Five years after the twilight of the republic, the pyres of the Naboo burned on.

Padmé Amidala stood with her hand extended to her former-handmaiden and current co-conspirator, Sabé, who took the matches from Padmé's hand and struck them, lighting the pyre. Officially, pyres had long been part of a Naboo's death rituals, and no one noticed anymore if another pyrefire dotted the landscape. Padmé swallowed a breath of smoky air and looked around her – seven fires were already burning within the dim view of the countryside. It was unlikely their eighth fire would capture any more notice than the other seven — which was good, because they meant to use it to send a signal. Only the gungan rebels waiting for their signal would likely notice, and even then, it might take them a few minutes to locate their particular fire.  

Ever since Palpatine had cut off aid, more would fall, and the pyres would continue to be built, she knew. This was nothing more than slow exsanguination of their once-proud people, and to come from a snake like Palpatine —

Sabé squeezed her hand. “Stay with me, my lady,” she said, and Padmé smiled. Sabé had been unnaturally gifted at reading her emotions since their childhood together, and somehow still was so, even fifteen years past their first meeting.  In hindsight, she should have taken this a sign far sooner than she did, but then Padmé had been blind to many things in the past.

No more.

“Thanks,” she said; Sabé bent down, grabbing the rug that they used for the signal fires. Palpatine monitored all her comm traffic – of course he did, Padmé took it as a point of pride that she was considered  _dangerous_  to him and the husk that was all remained of Anakin — but Palpatine couldn’t stop them from using older, more arcane methods. She beat at the fire, sending smoke signals up into the sky. To tap out the message took some time – and she repeated it three times, lest someone catch it late. They would be meeting in Otoh Gunga, next; the Gungan warrior’s ranks had been decimated by the Clone Wars (and now, of course, Padmé wondered with a soul-crunching guilt just how much of that had been more than coincidence) but logistically, it was still the best place to nurse a rebellious home.

“Do you think anyone heard?” She dropped the rug back into her bag hastily, least any stormtroopers stop to inquire what they had on them. It was an old and worthless thing, but Palpatine’s new laws made it easy for stormtroopers to act on their “suspicions” rather than any solid proof. She had the excuse prepared already that the accelerants for her great-aunt Jolé’s pyre leaked and it would be meant to protect them, but excuses may not be worth much. Everyone knew who she was, and she was already a dead woman walking. The fact that Jolé was, in fact, a bunch of gas-soaked rags also would likely not sell the fiction.

“Enough surely did, my lady,” Sabé said. Sabé rubbed her shoulders, and Padmé realized, belatedly, that she was shaking. It was taking too much out of her, the rebellion. She wished she could communicate with Bail, with Mon. By the very nature of their work, it would be months before she could meet them again, and given the state and strength of the imperial network, it was likely she might not meet them at all. Only Sabé remained a constant, and in this, Padmé was relieved. She could live without Mon or Bail or Anakin or Obi-Wan. She was not entirely sure she could live without Sabé. 

“You don’t have to call me that, Sabé,” Padmé said. She wrapped her arms around Sabe’s waist and Sabé leaned closer, resting her head on Padmé’s shoulder as they watched the firelight burn. “I’m not your boss.”  
  
“Maybe not, but…You’ll always be my lady.” Sabé squeezed her shoulder. “Old habits, right? Besides, I like to say it. Padmé and Sabé; the handmaiden and the queen. We complete one another, you know?”

“We do,” Padmé replied; Sabe’s face turned to the fire then, and Padmé studied her carefully. They were no longer so similar as to be doubles; Sabe’s nose was wider, Padmé’s brows more pronounced. Their facial structures had become more separate than similar. In some ways, Padmé regretted that. It had been comforting to have a shadow-self, once; she had fantasized often about them melding together, and, once again, in hindsight, she should have been a lot more aware of what those dreams portended.

“I miss those days. They were so much simpler,” Sabé said. She grabbed at Padmé’s hand and Padmé grasped hers. It was rare for either of them to not be reaching for one another, anymore. It was as if by clinging together as tight as they could, they would be able to undo the mistakes of the past. 

“I don’t,” Padmé’s response was long-planned, but still, adrenaline hummed through her veins as she touched Sabe’s chin. The skin was soft, still; a miracle given all the salt tears they had cried as of late. Sabe’s breath hitched but she did not dare to look away. Padmé sucked in a quick breath of air and realized she was breathing a bit heavily; in truth, she had wanted this for a long time and all the many hours of practicing her speech had failed the once-senator. 

“I…used to be blind to things. Things I shouldn’t have been. Like…” She leaned forward and Sabé tilted into her orbit, their lips meeting in a soft and potent sigh.  

It felt like something that should have happened long ago. Kissing Sabé felt right in the way so many things Padmé had done hadn’t felt; her lips were soft and welcoming and parted for her easily. Sabe’s hand clung to her hair like a drowning woman desperately seeking shore and Padmé, emboldened by this, ran her hands through Sabe’s hair and kissed her harder, kissed her like she should have been kissed when Sabé had grasped her hand so warmly at the end of her second term and they could both tell they both wanted more; kissed like she could wipe out the pain both of them had suffered for so long.

It was, in many ways, anticlimactic, though excellent; it felt merely like a long-delayed and torturous journey had finally ended as it always should have: with them together, in the same port, at the same station, at last.

Sabe’s hand slid around her waist and it felt as if she had always been meant to hold it. Padmé’s hand gripped Sabe’s shoulder, enjoying how reassuring she felt; the muscles and skin, all of Sabé gloriously alive on a planet that had seen so many deaths. Padmé bit back a sigh as Sabé’s lips burned at her neck. It was unwise to do this there, but it was all Padmé wanted.

She gave Sabé several more kisses, each long and aching. Sabé moaned softly in her arms as they stayed together; neither, she suspected, had any idea of time’s passaging until their pyrefire melted to nothing but bits of stray wax and charred coals.

Only then did they part, and only then did Padmé realize how much she had not wanted to.

“That was quite nice,” Sabé said, through well-kissed lips. She was flushed, her skin pink with a dewy happiness that neither of them had been able to feel for quite some time.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “Quite.”  
  
“Should go now though; Stormtroopers might find it odd, two girls out in the forest with a rug.” Sabe’s eyebrows went up and down in a way that, for the first time in years, made Padmé laugh until she started to cry. It felt good, felt freeing; as if the weights she carried on her shoulders had, finally, fallen down.

“Yes. We should head back.” She grabbed what they had and headed off in one direction; she glanced back only once to make sure Sabé headed in another. These were the steps they had to take now; Sabé would take the direct route back to her family's country estate, while Padmé took a longer walk through Lors' now-empty streets and gradually making her way back to what had become their shared home. She hated to be parted of Sabé, but splitting up meant at least one of them wouldn't be caught by  the stormtroopers patrols. She knew Palpatine was infuriated by them, and would only become more so after what Padmé had planned in Otoh Gunga took place. Soon, they'd have to leave Naboo, though her heart was heavy at the thought of it; she had already given up so much — it seemed cruel to deprive her of her homeland, too. 

But she couldn't keep fighting when she was dead. She would leave the land she loved, and she had every intention of taking Sabé with her. They would rendezvous with Bail and Mon, and perhaps, if the gods were especially kind, more friends than that.  And then they'd drive the empire back, no matter what the cost. And there would be many fires burning then, but, if they were very lucky, perhaps they could hold tight long enough to reclaim their home. 

But those were thoughts for different days. 

Padmé let her feet beat at the cobblestones that lined what had once been Lors' most illustrious streets, letting the pyrelights from the countryside and the dim lamplight in the city guide her way back to Sabé's home. It was not quite Varykino - the house more cobblestone than marble, with a tin roof that leaked horribly and sounded like a racket — but it was home. She was fortunate this night; the stormtroopers were not patrolling the city. Yet each time she failed to see them, her heart beat a little quicker in fear until she saw Sabé's face again; she'd rather them take her a hundred times than take her once-bodyguard. At least without the soldiers around, it was easy for her to break into a run, slipping with as fast a haste as she dared until she spotted the tin gutters and trim and quickly found her way to the door. 

She slipped into the basement and found Sabé waiting for her, as she always had been. She could feel the sweat upon her brow as they embraced; no doubt, Sabe, too, had run home. They had been fortunate tonight. Sabé lit a small lantern (Palpatine had ensured that they could never have electricity, thanks to their government numbers being revoked for their "treason") and Padmé smiled as Sabe's familiar features reflected in the light. She was, truthfully, getting used to firelights; her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see even the smallest lights. 

She pressed a kiss to Padmé’s lips, and Padmé's shoulders relaxed; she knew she had found her way home. With a knowing look, Sabé ran a heavy cover over her shoulders - Lors, like most cities on the coast, was miserably damp, and even Padmé struggled at times with the chill in her bones.

Padmé grabbed at Sabé's hand as she reached for another blanket, helping her slip it around her shoulders. At this point at past signals, they had walked to separate cots, but tonight, they walked together, arm in arm, toward the bed. The night would bring but a temporary reprieve, but they would be together, and in that, Padmé had enough to see her through. 


End file.
